Sherlock X OC: A Strange Case
by Isura Hikari
Summary: Sherlock takes possibly the weirdest case ever, a girl who says that she wants to use his superior intelligence to make a man fall in love with her. The last thing Sherlock expected was to fall in love with her himself...
1. Chapter 1

Chapter 1

Sherlock paused, poised with one hand extended, ready to throw the dart. He threw beautifully and smiled briefly as he examined the now completed "SH" on the wall.

"Sherlock?" John Watson, his recently married best friend, poke his head into the room. "I think we have a customer. She's lingering outside."

Rolling his eyes, Sherlock pushed himself out of his chair, giving one last look to his dart masterpiece. "I do hope it's not one of those horrid affairs again." John shook his head.

"She's not pacing. She's...standing." Sherlock quirked an eyebrow, before going over to the window himself. There was a blond woman standing outside the door, who suddenly looked up. Sherlock jumped back, cursing himself for making eye contact.

"She wasn't lingering," he said grimly, "She was checking to see if we were interested."

The doorbell rang a second later. Sherlock flicked his collar up definatly as John ushered the woman in. She wore a trench coat of her own, although her's was stylishly belted, and for a moment, Sherlock was rather disgruntled that he was no longer the only trench coat in the room.

She met Sherlock's stare with a deep blue gaze, obviously from behind soft contacts. His mind raced, observing. It had been ages since there had been a new person to deduct around.

John rubbed his hands together. "Brrr! It's cold out there!" She nodded demurely, flipping her bangs out of her eye. She sat down in the guest chair, in between John's chair and Sherlock's.

"Ah. So you've heard of us." Sherlock folded his hand under his deliciously chiseled chin, eager to see her reaction to his brilliance.

"Yes," she said, in a light, musical voice. Sherlock felt slightly disappointed. Was that all?

"I presume you already know why I'm here?"

Well, obviously. "There's three possibilities at the moment. Elaborate."

She raised an eyebrow, posing a request. Sherlock huffed in annoyance. "Oh, honestly. Elaborate, 'please'."

She smiled. "I would like your assistance in…" cutting herself off, she giggled, then regained her composure.

"I need you to make a man fall in love with me."

"Sorry, what?" John had never heard that one before.

"I need Sherlock Holmes to help me make a man fall in love with me," she repeated, as if it was a completely normal thing to say. To be frank, John thought, the more common thing to say would be, 'Make Sherlock Holmes fall in love with me', not a person asking for love advice from him. He'd never even take the case. It wasn't even a case!

"Of all the people, why bother asking the detective 'without emotions', as most say?" a playful smile danced on Sherlock's full lips.

"You already know, why bother asking?"

He smirked. "My intellectual prowess, obviously. Who else is there to ask? Who else knows the answer to every question?"

She didn't acknowledge his boasting. "Will you take the case?"

"Will you take the case?"

Not a case, John privately thought.

"Do you trust me to? Most people wouldn't?"

Ok, so he's agreeing that it's a case.

"I'm not most people."

That's for damn sure. John whipped his head right a left, like it was a tennis match, only instead of a small, neon yellow ball, it was witty retorts being tossed back and force, hit ferociously.

"Oh really? Why aren't you?"

"Why do you insist on asking question that you answer yourself? You are avoiding the question."

Sherlock leaned back. "Yes. Six?"

"Five." She stood up and shook his hand, and John's. "Goodbye." She left as she came, and the hurricane of her presence was only unfelt by Sherlock. John turned to his best friend, bewildered.

"What the bloody hell just happened?" Sherlock ventured into another room and began sifting through dusty boxes.

"Did you mean 'Yes, I'll take the case' or 'Yes, I'm avoiding the question'? Is she coming? At five? At six? What day?" John ducked, narrowly missing being conked on the head by a book, haphazardly tossed out of the way.

"Both." Sherlock called vaguely, emerging from the newly made clutter to produce a pair of earbuds and a headset with a microphone.

"What is that? Why did you even take the case? We didn't even ask her name!"

"Sound equipment. And I didn't need to asker her name. She'll tell me tomorrow."

"Tomorrow? When, tomorrow?" This was beginning to be frustrating for John.

"Five. Weren't you listening?" Sherlock sighed. John was just finally starting to understand things too. Back to the drawing board for human intelligence.

"But- Well-" John spluttered, "You still haven't said why you took the case. It's not something you usually do."

Sherlock grinned. "Exactly."

"Why isn't she here? It's 5:15!" Sherlock paced wildly, stalking across the floor like a cloud of buzzing ions.

"Sherlock, calm down. It's not as if it's a date." John looked over bemusedly at his frantic friend. The bell rang and Sherlock sprang for the door. "Ah-ha!"

There she stood, in a purple sweater, her hair swept back. She sat down again, eyes wide and bright. She giggled softly to herself, making Sherlock wonder what the joke was.

"Alright," John said, "Before you and Sherlock go all tennis-y again-"

"Tennis-y? Whatever do you mean, Mr. Watson?"

He flushed pink. "Er, nevermind. And John is fine, thanks. More importantly, what is your name?"

"Oh." She paused. "Arcania...Trefe."

John scribbled in the notebook.

"I do apologize if I'm interrupting any murders, Mr. Holmes." She dipped her head.

He waved his hand in the air. "Murders are common. This, although emotional and trivial, is new. Give me information."

Sherlock listened attentively as she scrolled off information about the man Sherlock was to make fall in love with her.

John was distinctly stunned about the fact that Sherlock would take the case-that-was-not-technically-a-case, especially one so "Trivial" and "Emotional".

"I've known him since we were two. Our parents are friends, although none of them, including us, have spoken in two years."

John looked incredulously as the detective, who actually seemed to be...engrossed in the conversation. How strange!

"Has the tendency to use 'haha' too much while talking via social media or texting-"

John knew that look. He was putting information in his mind palace. Why in the world would he waste mind palace space for information about a schoolgirl crush? He didn't even bother to remember that the Earth went round the sun! He realized in a second.

Sherlock liked this woman. He watched, curiosity sparked anew.

"Has perfected the use of a sarcastic grin-"

Sherlock nodded, waving his hand for her to continue.

Oh, maybe, not yet, John thought, but mark my words, he will.


	2. Chapter 2

Sherlock's head lolled lazily back. "Joooohn," He peered, opening one eye. "Jooooooooooohn!"

John sighed. "Yesssss, your majesty?"

"What time is itttttt?"

"Four-thirteen, Your Majesty." John called back sarcastically. Stupid smart-ass.

"Thank you for learning the proper title, John. Finally." Sherlock wriggled around, flipping towards his SH on the wall. "Time moves too sloooooooowly!"

John shook his head, amused. Sherlock could be like a little kid sometimes. The doorbell rung and Sherlock sprung out from the couch, ruffling his hair before opening the door.

There she stood. Smiling briefly, she waved at both of them.

"Sherlock, are you ready to go?"

John had never seen Sherlock baffled before, but hey, there's a first time for everything.

"Uh, go? I thought we were talking about the subject…?" Sherlock was one-hundred percent flustered.

"Yes, we are. But out there," she said, pointing out the window. "That doesn't bother you, does it Mr. Holmes?"

John realized the faint flowerly smell that had infiltrated the rom was coming from her slender neck, wrapped in a purple scarf.

"We're going out...there?" Sherlock's eyes were wide with what could only be described as comical, childish panic over leaving. It was all John could do to not laugh out loud.

"Unless...this is a problem? I thought it would be helpful to the case. You can't very well help me if you're a hermit, now can you?" She fluttered her dark lashes.

"Hermit!" said Sherlock indignantly. He pulled his coat on and whipped his scarf around his neck with a flourish before flouncing out the door.

"That was impressive," John said.

"Thank you, John."

Hermit. Hermit?! I'm not a hermit! Sherlock and Arcania were walking...somewhere. He didn't know. He was too busy fuming to bother to ask or deduct.

"Mr. Holmes."

It's not like I haven't been outside before, for God's sake!

"Mr. Holmes."

Just because I like my flat doesn't mean I'm a hermit!

"Mr. Holmes! You do realize I only called you a hermit so you would go outside voluntarily, right?!"

Sherlock froze.

He'd been duped.

"Aah!" He blushed bright red. I can't believe I fell for that! That's so stupid! Why did I DO that?! "Ahem," he tried to regain his composure, "Yes, I knew. Your…" hair color, eye size, shirt fabric, SOMETHING! "Shoe...leather...told...me…" He faltered as she looked down at her bubblegum pink flats.

"Mr. Holmes."

Oh god, oh god, that was such a stupid thing to say, how could I possibly say SHOE LEATHER, of all the things to say-

"We're here."

Sherlock found himself standing in front of a coffee shop. "The Steamer."

"Make a deduction, Mr. Holmes."

Sherlock inhaled deeply, preparing for the long paragraph he was about to bring to life.

"Been around for three years, changed owners twice, the second most popular in the particular city, has delightful scones but awful white chocolate brownies." He turned to her. "You come here often, because, one, it is next to your favorite boutique," He pointed to a small, but roomy, store across the street, "And, two, because the man you like who we are currently trying to make marry you comes here often, and in fact, that is him in the window with a caramel coffee and blueberry scone, correct?"

She grinned at him, surprising Sherlock by not giving her trademark mysterious smile. "Very good Mr. Holmes! Yes, that is him." He was given the vague sensation of being a puppy, praised for catching a stick for the first time. He took a moment to observe the man.

He was of normal height, shorter than himself, Sherlock thought smugly, his hair was jet black and fell slightly into his eyes, due to its shagginess. Hasn't had a haircut in a year, now that he hasn't seen his mother to remind him. HIs eyes were blue, and a little larger than average eyes. He worked out. He was quite popular, especially with girls. He had siblings. He looked like his father.

Sherlock shook his head to avoid the flow of information. So this was Eric.

Why did I take this case? He wondered. It's not a murder. Homicide. Suicide. It's not even a case!

"Arcania," he said, "I'm afraid I-"

She whirled around, eyes wide. "You're quitting?" Sherlock was stuck by the full vulnerability he saw, emotions and deductions freely shown.

That personality, the cool, collected one, that was an act, he realized.

"Um," He couldn't. "I'm afraid…I can't allow you to pay for coffee and scones. Blueberry or chocolate?"

She smiled widely as Sherlock's stomach fluttered. What's that about? He thought briefly. No matter…

"Raspberry whipped cream latte and chocolate scone, please!"

Raspberry. Her favorite color is pink, he thought as he bought the scones. Chocolate scone. Likes spring. He brought the treats over to the table she had chosen. Booth. Childhood memory about her...Father.

"You're deducting me, aren't you?"

Sherlock, taken aback, nodded. "How could you tell?"

She met him with direct eye contact. "You have a look. Also, when you're trying to deduct covertly, you are quiet."

"Quiet? Why is that important?"

"Because," she smiled shyly, "Normally, you never shut up."

"Oh!" He recoiled, "I've been stabbed in the back! Arcania, how cruel! I do shut up...when I sleep. Which is hardly ever." She giggled, sipping her latte daintily.

I want to make you laugh.

"So," Sherlock folded his hands, businesslike, "What was the point of me being here? We could have used the earbuds…" She giggled again, an adorable tinkling laugh that reminded Sherlock vaguely of his past…

"Social encounters aren't really your thing, huh?"

"Well, I-!" Sherlock opened and shut his mouth like a goldfish. "It's not like I haven't gone outside!"

"Haha! Sherlock, this is fun! Humans need to have social encounters! And only two other people don't count." Her eyes were crinkled and Sherlock sighed inwardly.

Stop. Back up. Deduct. Be logical.

"So, what do we need to do here? I'd prefer things to be quick and to the point."

Her face fell slightly. "So you could observe him in person." She resumed her cool personality.

"I've observed. Go talk to him."

"O-oh. Um, ok." She looked fervently behind her. "What do I...uh, say?"

Sherlock let annoyance flow freely. "You say 'hi'," he said flatly. he seemed almost to shrink into herself. Sherlock's heart twinged. He didn't want to be mean to her.

She stepped out of the booth and went over. They were laughing. Hmph. Sherlock closed his eyes. It's not like I care. Why did I take this damn case anyways? He retreated into his own mind, blocking everything out.

Back to his mind palace.

He went up the elegantly carved stairs, passing his library, his laboratory, his post for his crazy self, into a room with double doors.

Sherlock loved the beauty of it all.

A thousand copies of himself.

One waved at him, grinning. Another talked at a million miles an hour, buzzing everything. Another moodily glared at everyone, another had no expression.

In the center of the room, guarded by his most protective selves, was a black crystal box. He nodded to the guards as they stepped aside. He peered into the obsidian box, gazing at the one thing it contained.

His heart.


	3. Chapter 3

He had locked it up, guarded it.

He hadn't seen it in years. Sherlock knew hearts were four chambers, arteries, veins. But that didn't stop him from imagining his own heart as the cheesy, Valentine's version.

It glowed happily, thrilled to be acknowledged after so long.

"Why are you taking it out?" Moody Sherlock glared at the little heart, now cradled in Sherlock's hand.

"I think it's a good thing he's taking that poor heart out!" Cheerful Sherlock said, "Afer all, it's been cooped up for such a long time!"

"Actually," Sherlock said, "I haven't decided. We are having a vote."

There was murmuring throughout the room. "Hear, hear!" Judge Sherlock pointed to the left side of the room. "Take it out," he pointed to the right, "Hide it."

The Sherlocks gathered, casting their votes, into what was...

"An even vote." Sherlock said, "Until mine. I vote-"

"Sherlock?"

His eyes snapped open. Arcania stood in front of him, waving her hand in front of his face. "Sherlock, are you alright?" Her eyes crinkled with worry.

"Um,"_ Vote_, he thought, _didn't make a vote_. "Uh,"_ Vote! Need a decision!_ "F-fine. Fell...asleep?"

"Oh," Arcania smiled. "Well, thank you. May we meet again this weekend?"

_Decision, deduct, something! _Sherlock's brain was going too fast, too slow! "Yes?"

She grinned. "Oh, lovely! goodbye!" She skipped out the door as the bell tinkled happily.

Sherlock blinked.

He had weekend plans.

* * *

_**Ok, super short, I know, but there's another couple of chapters ready, ok? Have fun~! 3**_


	4. Chapter 4

"Why did you take this case again?" John asked. He poured black coffee into a mug for the still shell-shocked Sherlock.

"I don't know!" Sherlock was pacing in the flat, wildly trying to regain order in his brain.

"You're Sherlock Holmes. You always know."

"Well, this time I don't know!" He slammed the wall with his fist angrily, and sipped his coffee.

"Sherlock...Do you like her?" John queried, curiously watching his reaction. This was new.

Sherlock straightened up hurriedly. "John, as I have been informed, I do not have a heart."

"Sherlock, you're avoiding the question. Is there something I should know?" Half of John's mouth quirked up in the smile.

Sherlock turned around. "No," he said, "I do not."

John smiled slyly. "You're blushing."

"_Am not!" _

"Yes, you are."

"That is my capillaries reacting to cold weather!"

"It's summer."

Sherlock huffed, then went into his room. Only four days until the weekend.

* * *

"Arcania?" Sherlock peered into the Steamer. He adjusted his scarf and fluffed his hair in the reflection of the glass.

"Sherlock?" Came a voice from behind him. Of all the things to be caught doing, he had to be caught _primping!_

"Aah!" He whirled around to face Arcania, hoping to god she hadn't seen. "Er, hello."

"Hello!" Arcania said brightly. "I have a puzzle for you!"

_Puzzle? _Sherlock perked up.

"Deduct where we are going from my outfit." An odd challenge, but a challenge nonetheless. Women and their clothes. He flicked his collar out pompously.

_Tank top._ "Outside. Hot."

_Shorts. _"Walking."

_Sneakers. _"You need good grip."

_Ponytail. _"Lots of movement."

_Visor. _"Upside...down...movement."

_Wad of money in back pocket. Not that I was looking there! _"Expensive."

_Purse with obvious snacks, stuffed full. _"You obviously don't want to buy food there..." His eyes widened with horror. "Not...?"

"Good job!" she grinned with what Sherlock realized to be a demon grin. "You're right Sherlock, we're going to an amusement park!"

* * *

_**Oh god, so much talking. SO MANY QUOTATION MARKS. ;A; Again, this one is kind of short. I think maybe it's because I usually write in notebooks and then type it, and I write big. Four pages in a notebook is like, a half a page of typed stuff. Aah!**_

_**Well...hope you enjoyed! 3**_


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